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The raucous crowd refused allaying. Demands of blood rose to screams for Jesse’s head as punishment for the crime. Six shots in the air from the judges’ gun got the crowd’s attention.

Jesse stared at his black clad executioner.

“Ya’ll know how this gon’ go, son?” drawled the old man as he holstered his weapon and glared at the crowd. Jesse glanced around and shrugged. Pinched and hungry faces stared back. With no money and no food, a grisly death rated high as entertainment.

“Yeah,” Jesse said weakly. “Stole water. Means the death penalty.”

The executioner mounted his horse and waved to the crowd. They roared back. The judge took out his gun again.

Silence.

“One question,” Jesse said. “Do I get a head start?”

Laughter filled the air. The executioner shrugged and nodded.

The judge walked over and took off Jesse’s chains. “I’m sorry, son,” he said.

“Don’t be,” Jesse said. “I got him right where I want him.”

Confused, the judge stumbled back. Jesse turned to the city gate. He took a deep breath then sprinted for the wilderness.

Hoof beats drew closer.

Jesse ran harder. He stopped dead at a scrub of brush. Turning back, he smiled as a sniper’s shot picked the executioner out of the saddle.